


Sink Your Teeth Into Me

by p_totel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Canon-Typical Violence, Desperation, Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Modern AU, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rutting, dubcon, idk yall im a soft bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_totel/pseuds/p_totel
Summary: Omegas probably shouldn't walk alone around the bars. There is a reason someone should keep an eye on them. Or in other words, Theon meets Ramsay.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 91
Kudos: 147





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone be talkin bout ABO dynamics lately... i'm always here for that  
> no sexy stuff in this one but i wanna be nasty in the next chapter 👀

Theon Greyjoy sighed in resignation as he stared at the bottom of his liquor glass. He inspected it thoroughly, like he was trying to figure out some puzzle; fumbling with it between his fingers and flipping it around. It was just an attempt to pace himself not to order a new shot too soon.

He would be at the bar for a while. Whole night, probably.

The cycles were always a pain in the ass and made him miserable and irritable; for more reasons than one. Sure, at the top of the list was probably the ungracious hand of cards Mother Nature had dealt him, followed promptly by not being able to fulfill his role, and then by shame of even feeling responsible for fulfilling it.

 _Lots of Omegas can live a happy, long, semi-successful life without... anyone except their doctor... ever having to find out._ Yes. That's what Theon told himself as he sat at the bar, glass between his fingers. It was a frustrated lie and an attempt at prideful resention of his status that made him gag any time he thought of it.

Except for cycles, it's not like he thought about this shit every day. Right. Well okay, he often did, but not out of need he felt at those times; rather out of frustration he felt for being born on the 'wrong' side. Balon would disown him in the spot if he knew.

Whenever the heat cycle would hit him, he would double his blocker pills dose to mask his scent; pop the pills for hormone regulation and wait out a week until things calmed down. First two days he could survive; then it was three days of intense heat which made him irritable, and then two days of come-down depression as he would try to adjust to his usual reality.

He could surpress urges, control himself and try to function as if everything was normal and not every single Alpha that walked in caught his eye and didn't make him want to cry. Being home just stressed how alone he really was.

Obviously, the only responsible thing to do is _stay the fuck home_. But being home made him miserable.

Those few times he tried he would just end up crying at shitty old movies, ordering takeout and chocolate and frustratedly humping his pillow after he bawled his eyes into it. It was the worst possible outcome. No matter how many times he decided that _this_ season would be the one where he stays home and handles himself with some dignity it just wasn't happening. His body always got better of him.

Every time before the cycles hit Theon was stocking up on pills, one kind, second kind, third kind, lavander oil, peppermint oil, and even a fucking mint chapstick, whatever he could get on his hands to damage control it.

He tried multiple things to take his own sense of smell away as well; sitting in a cold weather two-three days before to catch a cold and get a stuffy nose (but what he caught was pneumonia and that landed him in hospital for a few days), wearing a mask (but that was too obvious and just attracted even more assholes) and in the end; at last, what he had to settle for was a tube of lavander oil to rub under his nose to try and trick himself.

It was all risky – even with all precautions, one Omega being on his own Gods know where wasn't the smartest idea. But when he was in a bar, armed with an arsenal of self-care products and pharmacy miracles, at least he wasn't _alone._ At least there were people around him and, due to him smelling like a soap shop along with his clothes that were sprayed and washed, usually left him alone.

These were all valid reasons to be at the bar in middle of more or less well-handled cycle.

The biggest reason was probably Robb.

It was pretty clear Theon was expected to move out now that he and Talisa were getting serious; like _serious_ serious about their relationship. Currently they all lived under the same roof (until Theon finds his own place; and both of them were quite sympathetic. _Ohhh poor Omega, he has nobody, oh fuck you both, thought Theon)_. But Theon didn't want to let go _that_ easy. Why should he move out? Why don't they find an apartment? Robb just suddenly decided he owns that place. And alright, fair, he did pay for most of the rent but- at the same time- he had more life opportunities. He could've offered Theon to stay there. Instead Robb thought himself immensely noble for letting Theon mooch a few months off them.

So him, being at the bar, was more of a silent agreement on what's polite and what's not, and nobody wanted to be near each other while hormones were raging. Theon had no fucking idea why HE got the shorter end of the stick (wasn't he the one most in danger here? Really? No?) but whatever. He was mature enough to get his ass out of apartment during night when his senses were strongest and go back for a few hours of sleep in the morning while Robb and Talisa were out for work.

But... too many regulation pills made him sleepy so his bar visits usually ended with him slumped at the table, too awake to sleep, too sleepy to do anything until mornng rolled around and he got a taxi.

„Who died?“

Theon's eyes shot up from the glass he was playing with.

What stood before him was probably the cockiest man he'd ever seen. Wow.

„Not interested.“ Was all Theon groaned, irritated. For someone who was usually up for a jest these times surely made him into a whiny bitch.

The man's head tilted, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. A cloud of black hair followed, like a dark halo, surrounding his amused face. He clicked his tongue.

„Oh. I figured, don't worry. I really like your smell of...“ he paused and squinted his eyes, „...peppermint. And lavander. And olive oil. And honey. And... whatever else you have there. Where do you live, Lush?“ The man nonchalantly leaned on the bar desk, a drink in his hand.

„Oh fuck off.“ Theon growled and rubbed his forehead. He didn't have time or nerves for this. It was only 2am too, and he needed to last until at least 7am before going home. Suddenly, there was a strong hand gripping on his arm and Theon yelped in surprise, his entire body going stiff.

„Keep talking to me. And you can thank me later.“ The stranger whispered in his ear and then cocked his head to side, pointing behind them. „I'm doing you a favour here. So be nice and don't be a dick. Didn't your mommy teach you some manners?“

Theon slowly turned his head around, his eyes widening in horror.

A group of three men, all looking similiarly rugged and with strange cruelty in his eyes sat at a table, their teeth sharp and on display. Their dirty clothes were in contrast with soft ironed fabric of the stranger gripping at his shoulder and Theon swallowed. If he had to choose one or another, it was obvious who was winning so far.

„They've been scouting you all night long. Seriously, it'd do you well to look up from that glass every now and then. Or at least get someone to keep an eye on you.“ the man gave him a curious look.

„I don't need-.“

„No, of course not. Isn't Mother Nature a fucking idiot? For thinking that you need someone to take care of you? Why don't you just tell her to fuck off, prove her wrong?“ the stranger's tongue dripped with pleased sarcasm.

Theon swallowed and turned his head once again. One of the bastards had a huge fucking knife at the belt. His imagination was enough to make Theon flinch in terror and grab on the stranger's shirt.

„No- I mean- holy shit. That dude there has a fucking knife.“ Theon whispered. „He wouldn't-. Would he? Look, I'm just trying to sail smooth-.“

„What a cruel world.“

„I mean, I shouldn't be suspicious-.“

„Oh no. Nobody who smells like they just walked off a perfume commercial set is suspicious.“

„I'm-. Look... alright but- just until they leave, okay?“ Theon uncomfortably nodded at last. „I really, really have no place for this in my life.“ He sighed, frustrated.

„Yeah. What are you drinkng...?“

„Theon.“

„Right. Theon. You seem like a tequila guy. With lemon and salt and shit. Actually no, this would make me look kind of cheap.“ the young man quickly snapped the fingers at the waitress who skipped at least five other customers to hurry at the order. „Get him a mojito so he can sip at something. He seems like the type. And I dunno, vodka for me.“

Well what was the price of one drink to stay safe?

„Thank you-.“ Theon said, his voice hoarse, still uneasy from the burning glances of the gang that sat at the other end of the bar, „uh...“

„Ramsay.“

„Ramsay.“ Theon nodded, a bit dazed.

„Don't worry.“ The stran- no, _Ramsay,_ tilted his head, his features softening a bit. It seemed like his cold eyes cut into Theon's soul. „I won't let them hurt you.“

Theon's grip on stranger's shirt tightened. That sentence sounded weird; a bit too weird, a bit too warm but... He couldn't figure out what it was that was so suspicious. Things were going to be okay now, right? He glanced at the predatory gang in the back of the bar and back at the stranger. Sure, they had knives and there were more of them but- still- Ramsay seemed strong. Broad shouldered. He could- he could take them on, right? He was definitely taller than Theon; the difference even more highlighted by Theon's sitting position and Ramsay's looming presence.

Due to his nose, rubbed with all herbs and oils he could find – Theon didn't even register the faint scent that he was starting to pick up. He just knew it made him relaxed- relaxed... And safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't talk to strangers if you mustn't. A PSA by Theon Greyjoy.

It turned out Ramsay was actually a very fun converstationalist. He spoke with confidence and charm and Theon was starting to find himself more and more dazed. He would jolt at random moments and remember his lavander oil, needing to rub some more, but he continued forgetting immediately. Something in the air was actually pretty nice – Ramsay's cologne? It smelt thick and masculine. His shirt was rolled at his elbows, showing his strong arms- he gesticulated a lot, Theon noticed, leading his eyes like he was showing him a magic trick. What a good cologne. The guy obviously had money. The oil under Theon's nose was slowly evaporating, the scent getting more and more prominent, entering his lungs and pulling down the lids of his eyes. What the fuck was Ramsay talking about anyway? Theon was sure he was holding a pretty good converstation so far but now he was starting to zone out. He suddenly jolted up and turned his head around.

That awful, predatory gang was still there, talking and laughing and drinking and looking in Theon's direction. He was starting to get more and more uncomfortable.

„You're still worried about those guys?“ Ramsay tilted his head, a weird spark in his eye.

„Y-yeah. They aren't leaving. And it's getting late.“ Theon yawned. Why was he so sleepy? He had done this before – more or less successfully but this time- he was okay but now- he just wanted to get into a bed and take a nap.

And his sight was starting to get blurry; he didn't stop at one drink, no, Ramsay apparently had a thick wallet and a fun tongue and he was just pouring more and more drinks into Theon. Things were starting to spin around him, the floor seeming unstable. Like a rocking sea.

„Right. Let me get you home. You'll fall off that chair and you don't look like a guy with a health insurance.“ Ramsay was already flipping out his wallet to pay.

„No- I can't- I can't go home.“

Dark-haired stranger shot him a quizzed glance. „Oh no?“

„No-.“ Theon slurred. „It's- it's complicated.“

Maybe he coud just sleep at the bar. Who cares. If Ramsay was there to watch over him-.

„And why is little Kraken scared to go home?“ Ramsay's grin broke in the most mocking tone as he reached over to Theon's closing eyelids. „Look, if you're worried your parents don't know _what_ you are, they probably do. They aren't fucking stupid. Also, if you are still living with them, that's just pathetic. How old are you?“

„It's not- it's my roommate.“

And Ramsay was wrong. If Balon knew, he would dead right knock Theon out for good. But of course not everybody knew what it's like to be a disappointment to their parents. That Ramsay guy surely wouldn't know; no, not with that soft sweater, expensive – it was expensive, Theon could see; and it was rolled at his arms- showing-.

„And things are complicated with this roommate?“

„...What?“ Theon snapped out of his hazy gaze.

„Your roommate.“ Ramsay repeated slowly, leaning into Theon's face, his eyes flickering like two starlights in distance. Theon stared at them with mouth slightly agape, like he was some halfwit that needed time to process what he was being asked.

„My roommate. Oh. Yeah. He- he lives with his fiance.“

Ramsay threw his head back, roaring with laughter. Whatever he expected to hear was obviously not close to what Theon had just said. The laugh was genuine and mocking, a sneer at pitiful seaborn who just shrunk in himself.

„You mean- you live with your roommate and his fiance.“

„Yeah. Whatever.“ Theon scratched at his arm and used the moment to look away while Ramsay was wiping tears out of his eyes. The spell that hypnotized him broke.

„That's- is that some polyamo shit? Like, a pack? I could actually get behind that, really. I've given it some thought.“

„No-! I just-. Don't have a place to live. Fuck you. What do you even know?“ Theon spat, offended, his entire face going red; across his nose, from ear to ear. Why was he making fun out of him? What was so funny? Why was Theon so sleepy? Why was that stranger in his face, why was he looming over him? Why did he wear so much cologne? Theon felt like he could suffocate. Why was nobody else bothered? And why didn't ventilation work in that fucking bar?

„Oh. I see. They're waiting to marry you off somewhere so they can finally enjoy their peace without third wheel like you rolling around, from couch to kitchen and crying because you can't be a big boy that you always wanted to be. Is that it?“

Theon remained silent. It felt like he was just stabbed. By some stranger in the bar.

„Oh come on. Don't pout. What's with that face? Look at me.“ Ramsay stopped laughing and his face went serious. He brought his big hand to Theon's chin and lightly tapped it. Theon shyly followed the touch; leading, leading, leading – all the way to those eyes.

„I can't go home.“ Theon yawned.

„Fine. So what, do you just want me to leave you to those guys over there?“

„No-.“ He weakly shook his head. There he was again – things were becoming blurry. „I mean. Uh. Would you stay here? With me? I don't know when it closes- like, 7 am maybe, and then I can go home-.“

Ramsay sneered, his grin wide and toothy and superior. „What, you think I don't have better shit to do in my life than keep company to some sad seafoam in this garbage dump? Have you ever heard of 'having a job'? You should look into it.“

Theon felt his eyes getting wet. Why was he suddenly being insulted? He couldn't keep up. Was this man nice, rude, good, bad, uncomfortable or comfortable, safe or dangerous – he had no idea anymore. He suddenly felt useless.

„Come on. I have a couch.“ Ramsay sighed and pulled Theon up. Sudden weight shift made him stumble but those arms were there to still him. It was alcohol; he said to himself. Too much drinking and nothing else. Couch sounded nice; he would definitely have a hangover tomorrow. He was getting so drowsy.

„I don't want to-. I have my pills here.“ Theon nodded and shook his pocket.

„Yeah, whatever you want. Come on. I won't touch you.“

„Really?“ Theon's eyes lit up.

„Well. Not unless you ask me to.“ Ramsay shrugged.

Hanging onto his wide bodyframe, Theon could've sworn a mischevious grin flashed stranger's face.

Ramsay's car turned out to be just as flashy as he was; a huge, polished black Mercedes. Theon could see his face in it. The surface was so clear - and he looked like absolute mess. Bloodshot eyes, messy hair, stubble on his face... An ugly jacket thrown over his hunched frame. The frame that usually stood straight and proud and tried so hard to at least seem like it wasn't its own prisoner. Wow. He sure looked pathetic. Why would a gang even want _him?_ He wasn't a catch. There were a dozen prettier drunk girls than him at that bar.

„Hey. Get in.“ Ramsay said as Theon stood, staring at his own reflection.

„...What?“ he blinked in confusion and looked up. Ramsay stood at the driver's side and motioned him. He made some gesture. What? What was he doing?

„Fuck. Hey. Sweetie. The door. Open. The door.“ Ramsay spelled it out, this time slower. Theon gave him a dumb look back. Wasn't he sitting in the car already? Weren't they-. Oh, no, it turned out he was still standing next to the door when Ramsay came over with a sigh, yanked the door open and lightly pushed Theon in. He hit the soft leather seat and let his head knock against it. And then Ramsay leaned over him.

„What are you- I told you I don't want you to-.“ Theon frowned.

„I am. Tying you. With. A. Seatbelt.“ Ramsay spoke calmly as he pulled it across Theon's body. „I am an excellent driver, don't worry.“

Theon inhaled his scent as his body hovered over him – thick and rich and relaxing and- his eyes slowly dropped down.

„That cologne.“ Theon muttered through lips.

„The cologne you're wearing.“ He continued, feeling himself sink into sleep. „It's great, really- but you should probably tone down on it.“

He couldn't see Ramsay's sudden wild grin through his closed eyelids as he doozed off.

„Theon?“

„Wh-at.“

„I'm not wearing any.“

Theon could hear something like a victory in the stranger's voice, but he forgot all about it immediately as he doozed off to sleep, calmed by it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some sex.

Theon woke up in a bed, his skin on fire. For a second he thought he was in a burning building. He was sweating; he was swimming in his own sweat, his breath short and fast, panicked. It was like someone had poured gasoline over him and lit a match. He burnt. Fire ants crawled up his arms.

He jolted right up in a sitting position, soft blanket falling off him. Where was he? He looked left and right but he saw absolutely nothing in darkness. Finally, he stilled his heartbeat and took in a deep breath.

Oh. That's where he was.

He didn't recognize the room or anything in it; but he recognized that scent. So thick it was suffocating. So thick it made him dizzy. Theon's mind swam in some weird, dreamy and warm swamp, getting lulled into comfort. That was Ramsay's pillow too, he lay down again and nuzzled against it. Soft pillow. Good pillow. He moaned. His hips moved.

A bit forward – a bit backward – he was in Ramsay's bed, in the safest place on the planet – he could – he could get off in that bed, he could touch himself, just grabbing on the sheets and blankets-

Theon's eyes went wide and he grabbed the cold sheets in panic. Fuck. Fuck. No! No! Pills. He needed to get his pills and down the entire fucking bottle. I-m-m-e-d-i-a-t-e-l-y. He felt a surge of shame and embarrassment at the twitch between his legs and jumped out the bed, like he was burnt. He hoped Ramsay would never find out. Of course he wouldn't, Theon comforted himself, those were Theon's private – _very_ private thoughts and once he got his blockers he would be normal again.

Oh. Okay. He was still in his clothes. He checked the pockets of his pants – no bottle was to be found. Fuck. He had left it in his jacket.

He didn't even bother turning the lights on, he blindly surged in and started grabbing on the furniture around him. It wasn't much – a drawer, a nightstand, a lamp, a chair, Ramsay's shirts on it, a set of fancy knives – wait what? – who gives a fuck actually, it was not what he was looking for anyway. He straightened his back, frustrated.

Oh. Yeah. He retraced his steps – he probably took it off when they entered the house. Most people have a jacket hanger. It was probably there. All he had to do was find it.

Theon insecurely stepped outside the room, trying to be quiet. He didn't want to wake his host up; partially out of not wanting to bother him, partially out of shame. He almost fucked his mattress. The thought alone was enough to make him cringe.

He just wanted his pills and he could thank this very kind stranger and go home.

But further down the hall he went, the more present that scent was getting, the more Theon's step grew slower – steadier – relaxed. Was this apartment that big? Why did it seem like the hall went on for eternity? Why did his feet feel like they were being dragged through the mud?

„Theon?“ a lazy voice called out.

Theon froze like a deer in headlights at the doorstep.

A lamp flashed, illuminating the living room. And there he was – Ramsay – on the couch, laid down, his dark hair ruffled from sleep. Was he even asleep? Theon was sure he was quiet how- how did he hear him? He was sneaky, he-. Ramsay's lips spread into a victorious grimace.

Theon's eyes moved slowly from his host's grin to his eyes. Awake. Preying on him. And then his throat got tied in a knot.

„Why are you up?“ the voice said.

Really.

Why was he up?

Theon knew there was a reason for it – right – he looked around himself. He had something on his mind when he left the soft bed and made his voyage to the living room; he just couldn't remember. It happens – people walk into rooms and forget what they wanted. But what the fuck did he want? He intently stared at the furniture. A table, a fridge, his jacket was hung near the door, and a calendar was next to it, and his shoes were on the floor...

Oh. Right. His jacket. He wanted his jacket. His eyes flickered, snapping him out of confusion.

„I just-.“ He coughed, pointed at the door and made a step forward to circle around the couch. He could do it. It wasn't much of a distance, all he had to do was pass the couch and Ramsay on it and-.

„Theon.“ The voice sung again. And Theon turned his head around.

Ramsay was staring at him, expresionless.

„I asked- why are you up?“

He wanted-.

„Did you want another blanket?“

No- not another blanket, he was too hot for that, he wanted a-.

„Got lonely? In that big bed? In that room?“

Yeah- that-. No. He-.

Ramsay sat up a bit. He was big – kind of bulky, taller than Theon, for sure, and he took up that couch. Of course his bed was too big for him. Wait, they couldn't be that much different, could they? Something felt off. He... saw him in the bar and... Ramsay was... taller, sure but... he looked-.

„Theon.“

And then, Theon completely forgot all about his jacket.

„ _Theeeoooon.“_ He heard a voice; but Ramsay's mouth didn't move. Who called him?

He just stumbled forward towards the couch – yeah, that's why he got up, wasn't it-? – like a sailor getting drawn by a mermaid. He always thought they were silly for giving in so easy but there he was, making his steps towards the rocks. The ship dock was moving beneath him. He felt dizzy.

Why did he get up? Was it that he wanted to go home? Why would he be so stupid to even think of that? He was sleepy. He took Ramsay's hand, supporting himself on top of him and put his head on his shoulder.

He wanted to continue sleeping.

„I take a nap.“ He mumbled, his eyelids closing. „I take a nap right here.“

He started lightly snoring.

***

Theon woke up.

He was on top of Ramsay.

His hips were moving back and forth.

He was rutting against his host's big thigh.

The movements were subtle.

His panting was quiet.

Theon fell asleep.

***

Theon woke up.

Ramsay was behind him, strong hands on gripping on his waist, moving to his ribs. Pressing in. Was he going to break them? That'd be hot.

His legs were cold. Where were his clothes?

He moaned.

A set of very sharp teeth pierced his neck.

Something slid into him from behind.

In. Out. In. Out. Theon tried to desperately move against it. Ramsay was saying something dirty into his ear. The place where he bit him was bleeding – a lot, by the warmth he felt on his collarbones, it seemed.

***

Theon woke up.

He was whining like a child, trying to get between Ramsay's legs.

He couldn't. Why not? He just wanted to get his head there, to-.

There was a strong hand on his neck.

 _„You're such a little slut. A little whore.“_ A voice said in distance. Theon didn't make out a single word of what it said but he agreed nonetheless and pushed his head forward again. The hand choked him. „ _I should've left you to those men. I bet you would've sucked them all off. Just go, from one to another. What, am I wrong?“_

Theon nodded. He had no idea what the voice said or meant. Which men? Who? Where? What? Did Ramsay want him to be a slut? He could do that. Would it make him happy?

The grip tightened and he choked.

Everything went black.

***

„I'll be good. I'll be very good. I can- please- very good.“ He muttered in his sleep to Ramsay's ear. „Good. Very good.“ He repeated, clinging on his chest.

He reached between his own legs to relieve his aching itch, wanting to come again – but a hand stopped him. It nearly snapped his wrist.

„Do this one more time – and I will break it.“

Theon understood, agreed, and went to sleep.

***

„Good morning.“

„Good morning.“

„Goodnight.“

„Goodnight.“

It happened three times.

***

Theon's eyes shot wide open. Clear at last. It was like a fog was leaving him.

He jolted up in the place.

 _What the fuck?_ Where was he? What happened? He brought a hand to his face and felt the stubble on his chin. It was thicker than the last time he checked. According to his estimated guess, it had been three days.

Where _was_ he even for past three days? _What?_ He tried to look around himself but a sharp pain in his neck stopped him. His fingers flew to inspect it.

A big bruise was there, on his glands, pulsing and hurting and aching. His entire body went cold and for a second he thought he became a block of ice; all the warmth disappeared from his toes and fingers and his legs felt like they were made of cement, gluing him down to the couch.

Clock ticked in the background. Like funeral bells.

Time passed slowly while his skin pulsated.

_He so did not. He so did not do it_

_._

_Oh fuck, he totally did._

He panicked and jumped up, his feet wobbly when he landed on them. He franatically turned around himself, nearly tripping as he spun. His everything hurt; his entire body ached, his ass especially, his legs, his chest was covered in bruises – like he was mauled by a wild animal – and he couldn't catch a proper breath. He turned left and right, his tiny scared pupils trying to find the beast whose shadow he saw loom in corners. What if he keeps him here forever? What if he doesn't let him leave? Where is he? Where is he? Where is that-.

The scent had toned down. It still lingered but nowhere to the intensity Theon could smell just a few hours ago. Ramsay wasn't home.

For a second a thought crossed his mind – was it Ramsay who was that intense, or was it Theon who was that sensitive to it? He erased it the very second it appeared because thought of being so weak and easily dazed made him gag.

He grabbed his pants from the floor and pulled them on, zipping them up as fast as he could. He had to disappear before He came back. Actually, he should skip the town. Actually, he should skip the entire Westeros. Actually, maybe he could go to Dorne. He heard it was a nice place. Warm, sexually open, with lots of fine wine and pretty women. He should change his name too. Get a plastic surgery.

Theon searched for his clothes but when he found his shirt, he found it was sadly ripped. He wanted to blame it on Ramsay, for being so horny, so impatient, wanting to jump on Theon – but that would be dishonest. He had ripped it himself. When Ramsay put it on him. Because he had to go to work. And Theon ripped it from himself and grabbed the boy's hand and put it on his chest and tried to stop him from leaving. It was followed by lots of breathy promises; _I'll be good, m'lord,_ and – _I am warm, you'll see, here, right here_ as he lead the big hand between his legs.

He shouldn't go to Dorne. He should go home, to Iron Islands, get a harpoon and just shoot himself in the fucking head with it, fall in the sea and become fish food.

Well fuck. He couldn't get to Iron Islands naked, in any case. That motherfucker won't even notice he's missing a shirt.

He ran to Ramsay's wardrobe and yanked the first thing he saw; oh perfect, he grabbed a turtleneck, great – it would hide that nasty bite. He sniffed it first though; to make sure it smelled like laundry and not Him and, deeming it safe, slid it on himself. He didn't bother looking for a jacket, or his wallet, or his phone – the only thought he had was – _flee flee flee_.

The door to the apartment was locked but he managed to grab a fork and pick it with it. Living with his shitty older scum brothers had _some_ advantage. It wouldn't have been the first time Theon had been locked in a room.

He took a long look at messy apartment before shutting the door behind and running up the stairs.

***

„There he is!“ Talisa's voice was relieved when Theon finally entered their apartment. He felt like hell. Robb jumped off the chair, all tense, like he was about to punch him. Or something.

„Where have you been? I was just about to call police, to file for a missing person, your- where is your phone? Why didn't you respond? What happened?“ Stark shot a raphal of questions at Theon who lousily closed the door. He was in terrible mood. It took him fifteen minutes to just drag himself up the stairs to their apartment.

Sudden depression hit him like a brick when he finally escaped Ramsay's hellhole apartment and got out on the street, among normal people, and just walked like that. He noticed a few men step away from him on the bus, giving him a sideglance. Everybody. Knew. Theon hated himself.

„I am not in the mood.“ He growled and shot Robb an annoyed glance. For how much he had slept for the past three days he felt so tired – like he could sleep for three more weeks. He desperately needed a shower – a five hours shower, actually. For more than one reason.

„I-.“ Robb approached him but suddenly stopped, like there was an invisible wall around Theon. They exchanged an intense look.

Talisa kept sitting at the table, unsure what to do. This was not her field of expertise. She couldn't catch on the subtle scents – or in Theon's case, a not-so-subtle-at-all one, lingering all over his body, marking him as someone's property.

And if someone was to come close to him, that someone might as well know.

Two men stood, opposed to each other – tension just waiting to be cut with a knife.

„Theon.“ Robb's voice was stiff.

„What!“

„I am going to ask you one thing. Just one thing.“

„Oh my fucking God. Get over yourself. Who cares-“

„One thing.“ Robb exhaled, closing his eyes, like Theon was some child that broke a window.

„That X on your shirt. The pink one. Sewn on the right.“ He said, rubbing his temples. „Do you know who it belongs to?“

Theon stared at him for what felt like an eternity.

Pink X?

„What was his name?“ Robb asked.

„I-.“ Theon choked on his voice. „R-Ramsay. Why?“

The entire apartment felt like it froze in time.

Silence that followed was loud.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb tries to explain the situation. Theon loves his brothers.

Robb insisted on Theon staying in the apartment until the situation calms down. Stay home. Be silent. Don't go out. Don't leave your scent around the city. Stay in that apartment, within Robb's reach and don't be stupid.

„You didn't give him your adress, right?“ Robb asked Theon. Theon shook his head, too embarrassed to tell Robb that if Ramsay had asked he would've given him his credit card number, pin and CVV code. He had no fucking idea if he had given it or not really, but staying silent seemed like a more dignified option.

„How long do I have to stay inside?“ Theon frowned. „I can't just pause my life forever because of some asshole that wants to fuck me.“

„Theon.“ Robb's voice was serious. „I'm not sure you're understanding the gravity of this situation. That guy. Is not right in the head. That family – the Bolton family – they are... You shouldn't mess with them. You shouldn't be anywhere _near_ them.“

Theon sat silent on the couch. Obviously Robb was blaming him for being irresponsible and was now treating him like a child, when it was really _his_ fault. If Theon had a place to stay without being treated as a nuisiance, for example, if he had _this very apartment which he could have if Robb moved out with that great job and salary he had_ , he would've been safe now. Obviously, Robb didn't care to think twice about this possibly being his fault. This argument, however, seemed pretty pointless and petty so Theon didn't bring it up.

„So what, I am just supposed to-.“ He muttered as Talisa brought him a cup of soup, wary of the huge pulsing bruise on his neck. Even she felt uneasy, opting to rather stay away from the entire situation. Robb sat two feet away from him too, not wanting to get closer.

„Do you know what he did to his last omega?“ Robb's voice cut him off.

Hot soup warmed Theon's cold palms that crawled with uncomfortable itches. He did not know, he did not want to know, and everything pointed that he would very soon know. Whatever he was about to hear didn't seem like a fun story.

„He locked her in a tower.“ Stark spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on his poor friend who on the couch like a nervous slumped squid. „He locked her there to die. They found her dead, her hands mauled.“

Theon stared at his own hands some more. The cup was getting uncomfortably hot to hold.

„She ate her own fingers.“

Theon did not want many things in his life, but he never knew what that category really encompassed. For example, he never thought if he wanted to eat his own fingers, but he was sure he didn't.

„How do you even know that?“ he groaned, uneasy. „Those might be urban legends as far as you know.“

He put the cup away quickly to stop thinking about his nice fingers that served him pretty well in life.

Robb reached out to his friend to put a hand on his shoulder but immediately withdrew it, like he got burnt. The aura oozing from Theon was intense, murderous, even if Ramsay was nowhere to be seen.

„I saw pictures. I read the report.“ Robb bit his lip. „My father showed it to me. It's not an urban legend, Theon. It's real and-.“

„Then why is he not in a prison! Why the fuck is he _in_ bars and not _behind_ them and why is he-.“ He wanted to say 'raping unsuspecting victims' but that wasn't even near the truth. He stopped himself from sputtering it. If anyone was forcing themselves on someone, it was Theon.

He remembered how he begged Ramsay to fuck him. And Ramsay pet his head and said: _oh sweetheart, I don't want to take advanage of your current state. Wouldn't that be just terrible of me? What kind of a man do you think I am?_ But Theon begged and begged and begged and then he was on all fours, spreading his ass cheeks for the bastard.

„His father is an influential man.“ Robb said bitterly, snapping Theon out of his embarrassing daydream. „A wolf in sheep's clothing.“

„Maybe you could go back to Pyke.“ Talisa suggested from the kitchen table, eyeing him – worried. There was an unfortunate agreement between all of them things would've been much better if Theon wasn't there to trouble them, but this suggestion was terrible.

„No fucking way.“ He cut the proposition down immediately. „I'm not going anywhere with this on my neck. Especially not Pyke.“

Yeah, wouldn't that be fun? To go home, marked like some omega whore, hug his brothers and then get punched to death? Kicked for being a poor little bitch? Even Asha was better than him. A beta, sure, but it didn't seem like she particularly cared or that it affected her much in life. He was the last in the hierarchy and he would be treated as such.

Robb sighed. Another idea was for him to move out with Talisa – but he couldn't leave Theon unprotected. It was his own scent protecting the apartment and overpowering Greyjoy's, and it served as a good ward.

„His mark should... should wear off within two or three cycles. Maybe then you could go back to the Islands. Maybe he finds another victim in a few months.“ Talisa shrugged half-heartedly. „Sure, the scar will remain but-. You know. Make up exists.“

„I'm not wearing make up! Fuck! I'm not a woman!“ Theon yelped. His pride hurt enough already – the entire North knew that he was a weak bitch and now he should lick himself like some common whore, lying and-. His casual sex life with random betas was forever ruined. They would run far when they saw the ugly scar on his body.

„That's the best solution.“ Robb agreed unwillingly. „Let's keep you here for a month or two and then-. Maybe you should go home. At least for a bit. I'll make sure forces focus on the case again and-.“

 _And we'll catch him and you will come back to North and live happily ever after_ , Theon finished it in his mind.

What a nice idea.

***

Being in the apartment was boring. Boring but safe, Theon had to remind himself. He would occasionally look at his fingers and weighed his options. He liked them a lot so the scale would always tip to staying home.

He usually kept to the TV or working out in a desperate attempt to get his nice physique back. He worked out a lot, really. Omega bodies were soft, made to be pliable and pretty, pretty for their Alphas and Theon had to dedicate extra time to look like he was tough. Whenever the heat cycle would hit him it seemed like his body would revert to its natural settings, his muscles softening and skin clearing up. But never to this extent. Months of hard work were ruined because his hormones decided his entire life purpose revolved around being a pretty thing that had to seduce an Alpha, to look soft enough to get his attention, weak so it would be protected. And since his body had finally found one and was off half a dozen pills to block the loss of muscle tissue, it set him back.

And it served as a good vent for his frustration.

He was left without his wallet and his phone, which meant all his documents were missing. He managed to get new ones through an exhausting administrative process (much faster than he would in Iron Islands though, considering his people weren't very familiar with administrative services).

Getting a new SIM card with the same phone number was a bit more complicated, but he didn't feel like updating everyone with a new one. He couldn't try to remember his 250 contacts and call them and say he changed his number. The clerk on the phone wasn't helpful in the slightest though. It took Theon two hours to finally get this done.

He lazily watched TV, resting from some lift ups on the doorframe when the phone buzzed.

**13:45 Hey**

**13:45 You there?**

Theon frowned at the message. Who the fuck was that? He didn't recognize the number. Actually, he didn't recognize any numbers. He barely knew his own.

 _„13:46 new phone who dis“_ He promptly texted back.

**13:46 Hahaha little brother arent you funny**

He sighed. Which clown was this? He hated whichever one it was.

_13:47 no seriously i lost all my contacts who this_

**13:49 Its Rodrik. You in winterfell?**

Wonderful. This was not the person he wanted to see. Theon swallowed.

_13:49 yeah what do you want_

**13:51 Im coming today. Gotta get a thing done**

_13:52 what do i have to do w/ yur things_

**13:53 I need someone to keep watch.**

_13:53 wheres maron_

**13:54 Why. You too much of a pussy?**

Theon bit his lip so hard it hurt. Fucking asshole. He... he couldn't go there. Not like this – not with that mark on his neck – not with strange smell still lingering over him. The mark was still active and... And he was supposed to stay home.

_13:55 i got a flu_

That was the best he could come up with.

**13: 56 Oh yeah. I forgot i was talking to widdwe theon. Do you need me to bring you a soup and a plushie to snuggle?**

His ears went red at that stupid insult. What was his brother, six? Rodrik was getting close to his forties and he still called him that way. Fucking-.

_13:57 nice to see youre an accomplished adult without any insecurities if i die youre paying for my casket_

**13:58 I just need you to carry some boxes. Its not complicated.**

Theon growled. He sat there, frozen, mulling it over in his head. He... it won't be a problem if he makes a quick jump. He had a bottle of scent blockers, if he covered the mark well enough, if he kept distance from Rodrik... Rodrik wasn't looking for a mate or anything, otherwise he would be rutting against some poor bitch instead of carrying boxes or whatever the fuck he was here to do. His senses wouldn't be at peak, right? Maybe he wouldn't even smell it. If Theon covered himself in cologne... Everybody knew and teased him already for being what they called _being a little bitch_ but what he called _being fashionable_. It wouldn't be the most suspicious thing in the world if he showed up smelling like someone dumped a perfumerie waste on him.

_14:01 ok when and where_

**14:03 You remember the storages at the end of the city? Wher board factory was. I left some shit there**

**14:04 6 pm be there or ill find you myself widdwe brother :)**

Oh yeah. His brothers kept their suspicious business there until they abandoned North because it wasn't profitable anymore. The place was big enough and smelled like rust. Like rust, decay and blood. If he had to choose a location, this was the best one he could get.

Good enough for Theon.

***

He parked his motocycle in front of the abandoned factory with an exparated sigh. He rode some garbage Maron sold him for a cheap price – and the price was fit for what he got. He didn't want to know how that can even got into his brother's posession.

Theon looked like his mom had prepared him for a school trip in third grade. He was bundled up in three jackets, accompanied with a scarf and a hat, boots, wet wipes in his pockets in case he started sweating too much, deodorant in another pocket and he had sprayed himself with at least three different perfumes. If all that didn't do the trick well – he guessed he would just fucking die.

He stepped in the abandoned factory.

It was truly a sad sight but – a perfect one for criminal activity. His brothers used to beat their victims there. Theon was unfortunate enough to get dragged more times than he wanted – half of them to watch others get beat, half to be the one getting beat. In any case, he hated that rusty and stinky shithole but it's not like he could just... _say that to them_. No. He had to be tough. He had to be an Ironborn.

And this place sure was fit for someone who called themselves an 'Ironborn' considering the entire construction was made of – well - iron. Rusty, ugly iron. Rusty iron which his brothers used as a cruel and practical weapon to beat the shit out of some poor motherfuckers who owed them money. There was no class to his sibilings. They just hit and kicked and ripped out poles and wires and smashed heads.

He heard water dripping in distance, making sound against the rusty construction.

It always dripped. If Theon had to name the most annoying sound he'd ever heard in his life, this would be right after the voice Robb used when he was trying to tell Theon he's stupid.

One time Maron and Rodrik tied him to a chair and left him under one of dripping pipes. It didn't seem _too_ bad at first - but after two hours his wrists hurt and the fucking dripping sound didn't seem to stop, just dripping on his head – one drop, another drop, tap tap tap fucking tap, just like the sound of piss dripping from his cock and-. It was only then he realized what they wanted.

He tried so hard to keep the sloshing water in his belly but his bladder betrayed him. His pants were wet with toxic waste of the factory and warm yellow liquid that spread down his legs. The only thing worse than dampness was when it started drying.

They came back four hours later and sneered at their little brother swimming in his own piss. It turned out he owed Maron some money and he didn't even know about it. Whatever, his brothers had made up Theon's debts more than one time earlier.

„Hey, asshole!“ Theon shouted at top of his lungs, breaking the infuriating silence- „I'm here! What did you need! What, can't carry stupid boxes yourself?“

His voice echoed against metal walls.

He walked a bit further, looking left and right, trying to catch the sight of his brother. It wasn't like it was _hard_ to miss him, considering his big and wide frame. His father called it manly, Theon called it just fat.

And there they were. Heavy steps.

Theon turned his head to the sound source, frowning, his mouth opening to spew another insult.

„Hello, sweetheart.“ A voice cooed from above.

Theon's face froze in mid-sentence, words never leaving his tongue.

That was not Rodrik's voice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunt starts.

Silence could be cut. The only thing echoing in that moment was that fucking water tap. Just the dripping sound. Theon couldn't even hear his own breath. Actually, he was pretty sure he stopped breathing. Out of flight or fight response, his body chose 'freezing' response. If you don't move, the T-Rex can't see you, his mind said.

Theon's eyes however made way up – up, up, up, to the tall ceiling, to a bridge, to-.

„Are you avoiding me?“ the man asked, leaning on the fence.

In the darkness, there was no definition to the shape – it was just a silhouette with a dark cloud for hair and – a white flash grin.

„I got so sad when I couldn't find you anywhere.“ The soft voice sighed. „And this sight is making me sad too. All those layers on you, the perfumes... are you ashamed? Are you ashamed of me? Did you not have a fun time? I thought we had a connection.“

Theon wished so badly he had some kind of a witty response to give but there was none. His mind was stuck, just like his legs, cemented in one spot. Fight. Flight. Fight. Flight. Stay put.

That scent- that familiar scent was starting to creep down onto him.

„Where is Rodrik?“ he managed to force out.

„Oh, Rodrik? I don't know. I don't really care either, to be honest. Somewhere on Pyke, drunk in an inn, I'm sure.“ Ramsay shrugged nonchalantly and pulled out a phone. „You forgot this. I was kind of bored when I came home and didn't find you there. I did have fun reading your texts, though. Not a fan of your brothers, I guess?“

That fucking snake.

„Well, yeah. Well-adjusted boys don't linger in bars and fuck the first stranger they see.“ The bastard dramatically exhaled, lazily walking across the bridge. Left, then right, playing with the phone, his slender fingers flipping it. Slender fingers but big hands – it was a terrible combination. A combination that comfortably fit around Theon's throat – strong enough to squeeze, with fingers long like Kraken's tentacles-.

„You know, I couldn't believe you'd buy it. But you are not a very smart guy.“ he tapped his forehead in a mocking way, his eyes looking from above at Theon. „I figured a set of numbers was too complicated for you to remember. And even if it wasn't, who's to say Rodrik didn't change his number?“

„How did you- unlock my phone?“ Theon choked on his own voice.

„What, this thing? Your pin is your fucking birthday?“ Ramsay gave a shocked gasp. „Seriously, I just took a look at your wallet. I mean, I guess expecting a guy who uses his _birthday_ as his pin to delete his sensitive texts is too much. Police would kill for this little thing, you know? To read all about Ironborn business.“ He shook the toy.

Despite three jackets on him, Theon had never felt so cold.

„You- w-wouldn't-.“ He stuttered. If his family found out he was at fault for destroying family business and landing them all in prison he-.

„What? Ruin your family? No, come on, I don't care about that. Ironborn are doing a pretty good job of that themself.“ Ramsay dropped the phone on the flloor. With one swift move he stomped on it, squashing it. The device was now just a flat piece of junk.

„Instead, I figured we could play a game.“ Ramsay grinned even wider, his lips cracking the corners of his cheeks, his pupils dilating in excitement.

The scent was starting to wash over Theon more and more, like a seawave. Last time it was him who was sensitive to it, touchy, jumpy but- this time-.

Just as cycles come and go for Omegas – same goes for their counterparts.

Fuck.

He was stuck in this place, so far from civilization with a beast out for a hunt. He stared at Ramsay who stepped out in a light spot, his features finally on full display. He looked tense. He looked like he was a bowstring, doing its best not to snap and shoot the arrow right through Theon's throat.

He could see in the bastard's eyes, the way his jaw twitched that he was up to no good.

„...A game?“ Theon repeated carefully.

„A fun game!“ Ramsay crouched down, his voice childlike.

He looked like a snowcat ready to leap from the bridge and tear Theon into pieces. The teeth flashed. Why did he have such sharp canines? The bitemark at Theon's neck suddenly stung.

„What game?“ he swallowed. Whatever this messed up thing was, it was the best to cooperate and get it done with. And then they could have an adult converstation and maybe resolve this situation. Well, okay, as adult as he could with someone who was apparently a fucking nutcase. A nutcase that got him out here to-. To-.

If Theon was ever skeptical of Robb's story, he was fully convinced now.

„A game of chase! Do you know where the back exit of the factory is?“ Ramsay pointed forward. Theon nodded. He knew this place like the back of his hand. He remembered all exits – so he could leave that forsaken hellhole as fast as he could when his brothers weren't watching. He slipped through vents more times than he could count.

„It's simple. You run and I chase you. You win if you get to the exit before me.“ Ramsay sat down and crossed his legs. The scent was suffocating. It filled the entire space, from bottom to the ceiling, and this time it made Theon sick to his stomach. It was sweet, alluring, but- it- it was also a reminder of what marked him. Isolated him. Warded people off him.

Two fortnights ago, that scent was comforting. Making him sleepy. Drowsy.

Now it was forcing fear into every core of his being, tapping into his primal source, making him alert. This wasn't a game of chase.

It was a hunt.

„And... what if I don't?“ Theon asked, insecure.

„Well, you'll find out.“ Ramsay jumped up on his legs. He twitched. Theon could see- see that the boy was barely containing himself. „I'll give you a headstart, how about that? I'll count to fifteen. And then I'll unleash them.“

Theon gave him the most puzzled look he'd ever given to someone.

„Unleash what?“ his voice shivered.

„I'd start running if I were you. One. Two. Three-“ Ramsay started counting, his voice amused.

Theon stood there frozen for one more second, and then his flight response finally kicked in. He took off, fleeing in the direction Ramsay pointed at earlier. Straight to the door; down the hall, down the big, long hall. It was one straight line. All he had to do was reach the exit.

And in the distance he heard hounds barking.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the other kids with their pumped up kicks run baby run, outrun my gun.

To say that Theon ran would be an understatement of the year. Every fiber of his being was both hot and cold as he bolted towards the exit. The adrenaline hit him like never before – primal fight for life kicking in. He sprinted as Ramsay slowly finished his count, as dog barks started getting louder and louder. It was one straight line; albeit long but – if this was just about running, he could-.

An arrow flew past him and Theon screamed, nearly tripping.

„Run, run sweetie!“ he heard Ramsay shout cheerfully from above, running over the factory bridges, iron clanking under his boots. Theon yelped as another arrow flew by him, to his left.

„Try not to get hit!“ the excited voice continued. „I don't want to make this game short!“

 _Fuck, that guy really was a psychopat_ , Theon thought in panic, tears forming in his eyes. Another arrow made a sharp sound by his ear and he threw himself to right, hitting the wall. Vents. He could use the vents. And then, he could get to the exit- or find another one-.

He heard Ramsay's footsteps above him. Theon bit his lip – first he threw off the scarf and the hat and then started unzipping those jackets. They were constricting. He frowned – he was sweating under them and taking them off would make his scent more prominent but – he couldn't move through vents with them on. He frenzily shook them off, his body damp.

He heard the bastard abruptly stop and sharply inhale. He then let out a satisfied moan.

That guy was fucking crazy. Theon couldn't see him – but he – he felt the aura above him vibrating with tense energy that suddenly amplified. Theon had never been more uncomfortable or creeped out. He wasn't a person to this man. _He was a piece of meat._

Theon's throat got tied in a knot but he quickly made his way in one of the vents and started climbing up it. There was one advantage he had – Ramsay was bigger than him. If he kept to tight pipes, he could slowly creep his way to the exit. Ramsay couldn't follow him inside.

He heard a hound barking behind him and hurried forward.

„Oh! Are we playing Seeker now?“ he heard Ramsay's jolly voice somewhere far away. „That's fine. I like that game too.“

 _I don't,_ Theon thought and sniffed as he made his way through the pipes. They were wet and gross but it was the best he could do. If he makes it home alive, he'll get a one-ticket-boat to Pyke and never fucking come back. Whatever Rodrik and Maron were going to do to him was better than _this_. He tried to remember if he'd ever been this scared in his life but – nothing came up. His mind was blank.

Theon crawled on before he felt a strong bite on his leg. One of the hounds chewed on his leg, its sharp teeth protruding. Seaborn's screams cut the air, echoing against the walls. _She will bite it off, he thought – the blood-hungry bitch on-._

He was saved by a whistle.

„Girl, come here.“ Ramsay spoke and the hound let go off Theon, retrieving from the vent.

Well, his hide was already given away.

„You're cheating! The dogs! You are cheating!“ Theon cried out, tears staining his face.

„My girls?“ the bastard laughed, his cough cruel. „Oh. They're just here for a show. And to chase you out if you decide to hide here forever. I don't want you hiding until I get bored.“

Theon heard a clunk on the pipe. Ramsay was standing there – he could feel him – smell him, that terrifying scent overpowering him even if they were split by a rusty metal.

„I can sniff you out better than they ever could.“ His voice was hoarse and husky, low and filled with want. Theon could hear the sick posession in his voice. Even if- even if he- he got out- would- would Ramsay let him go?

„If- if I make it out will- will you let me go?“ Theon stuttered, his body shaking.

There was a satisfied sigh. „If you make it out. I will.“

Theon couldn't see it or feel it but he knew – he knew the Alpha there is turned on. That he is leaning on the cold metal, that he is breathing deeply against it, he- he knew all those things and he had no idea how. The mark on his neck pulsated. Theon had to sniffle to stop shaking.

The aura stepped away.

Theon used that chance to bolt forward, getting through the vents like a rat in a hurry. He took a sharp turn left in the depth of the factory. Ramsay couldn't follow him there. He crawled upwards – to the second floor. He got out of the vent. The hounds weren't to be heard.

Actually, nothing was to be heard. Not even that stupid water dripping.

He stilled his breath and hurried to the vents on the opposite side. Maybe he could sneak through them and get to the exit unnoticed – as long as he is silent. He took his shoes off, knowing it was probably futile. He wanted to cry from desperation. Ramsay would smell him out if he couldn't see him.

Speaking of that – Theon frowned and sniffed the air – where was he?

He couldn't catch his scent. Not at all.

This meant two things.

One – Ramsay didn't know where he is.

Two – Theon didn't know where Ramsay is.

He frowned. He didn't have to smell him to _see_ him but – he didn't feel his eyes anywhere on him. He would feel them, right? Just as Alphas had an instinct to hunt, Omegas had an instinct _not_ to be hunted. It worked both ways. Things always worked both ways.

Theon made careful steps towards the vents and started slowly descending down. Silence was creepy – he wished for that water tap. It was always present, invoking hatred in his heart, but now – now he could use something; anything really, to soothe his nerves. He stopped to sniff every few steps, his hands gripping on cold iron. Nothing.

Creepy voice snuck on him like an eerie ghost.

„ _Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout..._ “

Theon thought his heart stopped.

The low voice echoed through the vents, behind him. Sound travelling through pipes, from far away, far away, above-. Where the-.

Oh. No. No. No.

Theon shrieked and started descending faster, determined to get out of there before the second verse of the song came on.

„ _Down came the rain...“_ he heard a giggle, followed by spinning of a heavy wheel.

He moved forward in panic, he wouldn't, that bastard wouldn't, he-.

„ _And washed the spider out!“_

Theon screamed as a surge of water splashed behind him and quickened his pace. Too little, too late, the big wave was already at his back and he caught a deep breath. He would drown. He would drown as a petty game to that sick monster, suffocate like a mouse.

The wave swept him like a branch in river. Theon had no idea what was going on – his body hit the iron walls of his prison he thought would be safe; the maze he knew and the maze where Ramsay couldn't follow. But now it might as well be his grave.

The water gushed and swirled, carrying Theon and he finally hit a concrete floor.

He drew in a loud gasp, his hair wet on his forehead, clothes hanging on him. But he was there. He could see the exit, he could – the adrenaline shot him up on his feet and he darted forward, like a terrified deer, his hands grabbing on the soft light of the cloudy day that shun outside the factory walls and-

He was knocked down.

The tackle came from behind and Theon flopped on the floor, together with a heavy mass on his back, wrapping its arms around his body. The scent hit him all at once, protruding through the stench of musty factory waste. The breath he took in was promptly kicked out of his lungs.

„I got you.“ the hot whisper on his neck was low and husky, followed by stiff panting. Bastard's hands dug into Theon's shoulders and he felt lips in his hair, inhaling-.

„Wait!“ screamed Theon, his eyes going wide. Bastard liked loopholes, liked games and-. Maybe-.

Ramsay stopped, curiousy.

„I made it out.“ He whispered and jerked his head forward. „Technically. I made it out.“

Ramsay tilted his head and stared forward.

Theon's pointing finger passed the door line.

„Ah. Maybe.“ He grinned.

Quick as a serpent, a knife flashed before Theon's eyes, slicing the finger off in a second.

„But I don't think you did.“

It took Theon almost half a minute to process what happened before he screamed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy times.

Theon stared at his newfound stump like hypnotized, his gaze fixed on it. This was not happening. He couldn't breathe, and when he finally took in air, he was dazed by the strong scent on top of him. It washed all over him. It was to his left and to his right, forward and backward and above and it was suffocating. Last time it was so sweet and comforting and now – now it made Theon paralyzed. Like a mouse under cat's claws.

„I've been waiting for this.“ The bastard grabbed his handful of his hair, digging his fingers deep into it. „It did disappoint me you just disappeared like that.“ His hands were all over Theon's body and he felt strong thighs cement him in place, „But I like a good chase. That's how it's supposed to be.“

He felt something hard rub against his lower back, followed by a hungry moan.

„I- Ramsay.“ Theon coughed, his entire body tense. „Let's- let's talk about this-.“

He yelped as he felt sharp teeth dig into his neck, drawing more blood. It was followed by a protruding tongue that sucked at the wound.

„Let's not.“ The response was uninterested.

Theon yelped as his shirt was suddenly ripped from his back, his body bare. Ramsay let out a pleased sigh. The water tapping resumed once again in distance.

And then sharp teeth bit into Theon's back, hungry and greedy for more; almost biting off a piece of flesh. Bastard's knife disappeared from Theon's field of vision. _Where is he- where is he going with it? What is-_ his thoughts raced in panic. The answer came immediately.

Theon screeched in pain as he felt blade slice a long cut across his back, followed by obscene panting and a rut against his asscheeks – fabric against fabric. There was once again a slick tongue on his flesh, and then a new cut. It hurt. The body pressing into him was vibrating like a cloud of chaotic sparks – a turbulent tornado of hunger, and teeth, and mess, and greediness and it only then dawned on Theon.

_The man behind him was not up to his senses._

If Theon's scent earlier drove him crazy – the blood sent the man into a consumed frenzy. He will kill him. He will kill him in that factory. He will kill him, not even _on purpose_.

The hounds started barking as the rusty smell of blood spread through the empty hall. Ramsay on top of him tensed and hissed.

The dogs went quiet.

Theon's mind swam. He didn't know what being an Omega _really_ included. He's heard many things, really. He tried and tried but escaping relationship advice in magazines and tabloids and trying to block out those ever-present converstations about it was impossible. What he thought it was – what being Omega was – it was - it was being a pretty little slut and then being a miserable mom to children of some prepotent asshole. And also after that he pays for your bills until the rest of your life. Wasn't that right?

Sure, his status was a huge sting at his pride but; as far as practical application went he didn't take it as more than an annoying inconvenience he had to deal with once a month. The threats he had experienced so far were a few Alphas here and there trying to make shitty passes at him in the clubs. The most uncomfortable thing that had ever happened to him was being pinned to a wall in a bathroom stall, and even then, there were other people and he was saved. Sure, danger always existed but he had never really _thought_ about it.

So, if Omegas were really just pretty bitches with nice skin and quiet voices – why was _this_ happening?

It was supposed to be... easy. An easy life for most of them.

_Then why was it so terrifying?_

He felt Ramsay move against him again, grunting, his breathing speeding up and slowing down. It was erratic and irregular. Filled with some horrific bloodthirst. He didn't even undress him yet- and when he finally would, he will rip him apart from inside.

He needed to damage control this before it got worse.

For some reason – it felt not only like a rope he needed to dig himself out of this mess but like – like his duty. His job. _His job to calm Ramsay down_. Who else could, really?

Theon stared at his missing finger some more but – it didn't hurt. At first he assumed it was from pure shock, but no. Shock wasn't it. It was Ramsay. His scent served as a tranquilizer, making sure the Omega doesn't pass out; making sure he can still get the job done. Alright. Theon nodded to himself, doing his best to gather any courage he had in situation like this.

„Ramsay?“ he whispered softly.

„What.“ The bark from above was grumpy. He had no idea what was going on in Ramsay's head but it must've been intense – even his own dogs barking were enough of a threat. Theon could tell his Alpha went away somewhere for a few moments. He needed to bring him back.

„Y-you're hurting me.“ Theon whimpered as small as he could. „Y-your hands, I- you're bruising me. My hand.“ He choked on his own words. It sounded like he was reading out of some manual.

Ramsay pressed a thumb in, prompting a yelp from his victim.

„Nice try, sweetheart.“ The bastard grinned, getting swept out of his lousy mood and dedicated his hands to pulling Theon's pants down, this time with more concentration.

„Do you want to play more chase?“ Theon's weak voice sounded as innocent as he could make it.

„I already caught you, Kraken. _One, two, three, four, five, once I caught a fish alive._ “ Ramsay's hand was on Theon's neck, lightly squeezing at it. The pressure was calmer, the rocky sea calming down and steadying its power.

 _Alright,_ Theon nodded to himself, _keep talking to him. He likes it._

„Maybe we can play later again.“ Theon tried to offer. „I- I haven't played chase since I was a child.“

„Oh, I assure you, it's more fun when you are an adult.“ Ramsay yanked his pants down, his hands hungry on Theon's ass.

„It is?“ Theon forced himself to relax. It will hurt more if he is tense.

„You actually get to keep your catch.“ Ramsay placed a kiss on his head and spread his asscheeks with one swift hand move.

The pain on his back was slowly fading, probably due to pherormones. Theon winced nonetheless; he knew the pain would probably return once Ramsay was away and the anasthetic would fade. But right now he couldn't do much about it.

„Wait.“ Theon interrupted him.

Ramsay gave him a puzzled glance this time instead of an annoyed grunt. Theon turned his head around to take a look at his mate.

His dark hair was ruffled, damp, curling in all directions. His face was stiff, shoulders tense – those cold icy eyes flickering, and- Theon noted with unease - confused. A tiny glimpse of fog was visible in them, a clear aftermath of hyperactive thrill. Theon could only assume what was going on there. He remembered his own tunnel vision, foggy mind. The way he didn't know what was going out, how his senses weren't working - but – but... _Ramsay seemed sharper than his knife just a few minutes ago_.

It took him a second to realize. _Oh_. _Obviously._

Alpha's clarity, sharp senses, sharp mind, that predatory excitement and focused eyes at the prey before him were needed for the hunt. But now when he caught his prey he could consume it and relax – his role fulfilled. The rabbit was under his paws.

So that's why Omegas were that soft. To ease their Alphas from doing something stupid.

It seemed like Theon's own head got clearer. The scent wasn't threatening anymore – it was a relaxing one. He just needed to do well, and this would be over.

He tried to get up on his hands and knees to get in a more comfortable position. Blood dripped down his shoulderblades. Ramsay suddenly tensed, staring at the red liquid and his hand stilled. _Shit_ – it was just going to make him agitated again.

„I- I want to be good.“ Theon quickly sputtered out. „Ramsay? Look. I'm good.“

It sounded like bad porno but at least seemed to have an effect. Ramsay blinked at the sight before him, his lips tightly sewn together.

Theon reached between his own legs, all the way to his hole. Ramsay's proximity was making him slick – his body knowing what to do on the biological level. He had never done this before but – he had a pretty good idea of what he should do. He pushed in one finger and gave a moan.

„I'm- I'm sorry I ran.“ He said, giving his best attempt at an apology. „I was scared.“

Ramsay stared at him, quiet. Theon recognized it – that was the same way he stared at him just a few fortnights ago. It was weird – being one in control. Well, as much as he could call it _control_. He was still the one with mauled back and severed finger.

„I want to see you bleed.“ he heard a husky low voice, dreamlike, coming from some far away. But his mate didn't move.

Theon continued, attempting his best to look at least half as attractive as sluts he had seen in pornos were. „Okay. Okay.“ He said in a still voice. „But can you- can you move the knife away? I'm being good. See?“

Ramsay didn't reply.

„I like when it's your teeth. S-see? It's still there.“ Theon whispered and craned his neck to give him a good view of his mark. „It's still there. I want to be good. I'll be good. I- I don't want the knife.“ And then he gave him the best act of tears he had ever given to anyone.

He used to make fun out of women using tears to get what they wanted and, fuck it, he cursed himself, he never will again. _Poison is a woman's weapon? Try out crying_ , he thought, salty.

It worked though, as he heard a clank of metal as the blade was tossed aside. He pulled his fingers out, nicely stretched and bumped his rear into Ramsay's hard on.

„I'll be. Good for you. M'lord?“ he whispered in one breath.

That's how he liked to be called. An old title – for old families – still present today and less so – but – Ramsay liked it. M'lord, Theon repeated in his head.

Theon bumped against him again, his chest slowly rising. Ramsay was solid frozen behind him, transfixed; his aura still, tense like water surface trying to contain something scary and unpredictable within it. Whatever eldritch monster hid in it was very confused at the turn of the events.

„When- when I went out.“ Theon continued, his voice shaking. „Everybody stepped away from me.“

He felt Ramsay's hands suddenly grab his thighs with force near enough to break them.

„I went on the bus and-. They- they looked at me weird.“ He had no idea what was bad Playmega magazine talk and what was the truth anymore. But the hot feeling in his stomach was getting more and more prominent, warming him from inside. _He was doing a good job._

„They looked at me like I'm dirty.“ He finished.

Suddenly, a strong hand pushed him on the concrete floor - his jaw slammed against it, and his eyes rolled in his head from satisfaction he couldn't explain.

„Like I'm a dirty.“ He continued as he felt Ramsay push in him violently, „A dirty. Omega. Slut.“

The way Bolton rammed into him left him feeling like he'll never walk again but it was- it was so good, it was like how it was supposed to be. The big hand, tangled in his hair pulled at him, his neck arching back in pleasure.

And then a set of sharp teeth almost ripped out his throat, refreshing the mark.

Theon felt like he left his body. He was suddenly somewhere above himself and below himself and he was in that spot where Ramsay's teeth had dug. _That's right_ – He had to renew it. If he didn't, how would people know Theon belonged to someone? He gave a satisfied cackle.

 _It was only correct they should stay the fuck away._ What, would they dare to touch him? In public transport? In a store? Would Robb dare to touch him? No. Nobody would. Everybody would keep two feet away from him – as they _should_.

Theon's mind swam.

Oh, what if Rodrik really was here? What then? Theon would wildly grin at him and flip him off. Yeah, that's what he would do. And if his brother tried anything – _anything at all ­–_ Ramsay would rip his face off. He would cut off his fucking fingers. Theon's focus shifted to the little stump on his hand and he sneered. If Ramsay did it to _him,_ who knows what he would do to someone else?

His grip was so strong. He could take on Rodrik and Maron both, Theon thought dreamily, and he could make Robb stop judging him all the time – if Theon was to move in with – _with_ – he wouldn't have to be a tag-along anymore and a nuisiance to everyone around himself.

Robb could go fuck himself, he thought in haze. What, was he mad at Ramsay being a Bolton? At being above law?At driving a better car? That was it, he was jelaous. _Fuuuck you,_ Theon's lips curled into a cruel smirk. _I will walk with him down the fucking street and you can look until your eyes drop out._

He couldn't hear Ramsay speak – if he even did? Did he? – but he felt the way he buzzed, his aggressive grunts and pushes. Vigorous, heated movements, owning him; eating him. He simply let out a relaxed, satisfied sigh. He could take a nap. He will take a nap later, under Ramsay's arm.

He didn't know when it was over. Was it fast? Slow? He got lost somewhere in between. He just knew Ramsay pulled out, moved his hands away and Theon dropped to the floor like a limp doll. He heard Ramsay's deep breaths as he was trying to regain his senses, eyes fixed on his victim.

Theon gave a content smile and closed his eyes.

He decided to take a nap.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay gets horny, violent, and unwilling to let go.

Theon woke up comfortable, on the factory floor. He opened his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes to chase the dream away. First thing he felt was that he _didn't_ feel it – where was Ramsay? He shot up on his knees, looking around himself, startled. He fell asleep under him but the comforting weight wasn't to be found.

What he felt was a strong tug at his neck and he choked, getting pulled to the side. Tears formed in his eyes at sudden discomfort and he looked up; finally seeing Him.

Ramsay sat on one of factory drums, his posture lazy and pleased, legs spread. A leash in his hands. A long, long leash, leading to Theon's neck.

It took a minute for realization to reach Theon's brain. He lifted his trembling hand, to graze his collarbones. His fingers were met by a heavy leather collar, clasped around his neck.

Ramsay's comforting presence he felt just – _well, who knows how long ago? How long was he out?_ – turned upside down; the soothing sensation seeping into a threatening energy. Suddenly, he was a hostage of a fucking madman.

Ramsay leaned over, his eyes cold and sharp, two predatory icebergs watching every Theon's moment, taking in every lift of his chest.

„Ramsa- you can't- let's-.“ Theon tried, his voice betraying him. All it took was for Ramsay to raise his hand to shush him down. His tongue immediately went limp in his mouth.

„Now, now. We can't let you get away this time, right?“ he spoke, his voice husky. „Lucky that my girls are well trained. I had to take this off one of them. But she is more loyal than you are, so I don't think it's a problem.“

Loyal? Dog? What was he talking about? Surely he couldn't just- this was kidnapping. This was a fucking crime, Theon thought in horror. Would anyone even care though? He was an Omega. _Oh boohoo, my mate, which marked me and all, didn't want to let me go._ Like anyone would take him seriously.

„We should talk-.“ He tried once again, gathering the courage he had left in his beating heart. „We-.“

Ramsay got up from the raffish drum with confidence. The ugly metal, red from years-long oxidation seemed more like a throne than a barrel of toxic waste. 'Bastard'? That was the last term appropriate for him. No, his posture even got that ugly fucking factory to submit to him. Theon shivered when he put one finger on his lips.

„We should go home.“ Ramsay said slowly, spelling out each word, like he was talking to some stupid child. Theon realized that was the end of discussion.

\---

Three days.

It was like that for Theon – two days of that upcoming feeling od heat; that slowly creeping up disorientative blur, feelings of loneliness and need; followed by three days of desperation and agony, melancholy and despondency. Three days of foggy mind. Three days of primal urges.

If it was like that for him – _why would it be any different for Ramsay?_

_And Theon actually took precautions. He actually took pills, usually. And he knew what happened last time he didn't._

These three days were some of the most stressful and confusing experiences in Theon's life.

It felt like steering a ship through a wild, stormy sea, doing his best not to crash it into rocks. And it seemed like there were lots of reefs, threatening to drill through the dock and leave Theon to drown. It was up to him to hold them both on surface. _If Ramsay goes down, he will grab the captain with himself._

Ramsay dragged him home on that leash. Even in his car he didn't let go of it for a second, just held it wrapped around his hand, all safety locks on. _What, did he think Theon would jump out? Maybe that was a safer option, actually._

He could see twitches in his eyes and smiles; pupils focused on the road while spilling dirty words after dirty words, creepy feverish daydreams – a product of a mind not sound at all. Fuck. How did Ramsay feel when Theon was like this?

He had no idea how to position himself on the issue. The Ramsay he knew, he saw – _he heard about_ – was a sharp, slick man. The way he spun Theon back- back at that bar...

The haze left him completely mid-drive and the stump where his finger used to be started painfully aching, along with his back. He couldn't even lean in the car seat. He had no idea what Ramsay had done to him and he was too scared to imagine. He was sure his body looked like a battlefield.

Comfort he had felt while moaning in pleasure on the factory floor had long faded and horror of the man next to him settled in. _He cut off my fucking finger. He cut it off just like that_ , Theon thought petrified.

The moment they crossed the doorstep, he was slammed against the wall, rough hands wandering all over him and groping him, like some invasive force. He made a few more futile attempts at bringing Ramsay back to his senses and all of them were ignored.

Everything from then on seemed like a wild combination of a murky nightmare and romantic daydream.

He kept going from pure dread while the bigger man laughed in his ear, telling him he will leash him in the basement, to hazey bliss, somewhere between dream and reality, followed by a nap. Ping-poing from tears dropping on the stump of his finger to watching it in awe, knowing that it was the only _right thing_ Ramsay could had done.

He was disobedient. Ramsay knew what order was.

After fuck he would always fall asleep – comfortable on his captor's shoulder, feeling safe and satisfied. Those were the peachy moments; Theon's afterglow colored with roses.

And then reality would hit him like a ton of bricks, nice warm bed becoming a cold room. Room where he was held _against his will_ , at mercy of the erratic and cruel storm.

Once he woke up to Ramsay simply staring at him from across the room. Once to Ramsay rutting against him in his sleep.

Once he woke up to Ramsay polishing the set of his knives.

The same knives glossed over back- back _then_ , when he was flipping the apartment for his jacket. He immediately fainted back in the pillows. That was too much.

When he woke up he had no idea if Ramsay had actually _done_ anything with the family heirloom daggers, but it was hard to differ wounds from one to another. He was covered in them.

It was exhausting. He had no idea when Ramsay was present and lucid, when not, when he had to act like a slut for him, when he really _was_ one. His mauled back went from burning pain to sweet warmth brought by Ramsay's scent. His mind from a fast calculator trying to figure out what to do to a pleased fog, happy to be under that big body.

Luckily, Theon was present enough to remember that they should probably eat something too. He desperately tried to remember if he even ate for those three days while he was promising to birth Him many children and begging to be marked and shown off. _What the fuck was wrong with him?_

When he tried to wriggle out of the bed, Ramsay jumped quick like a snake, dug his teeth into Theon's neck and dragged him with them back in the bed, before placing a secure arm around him and smothering him with his weight.

Feral was barely the word to describe it. From time to time, he would remember movements of Robb's direwolf, the way he would bite at rope or at Robb's hand to get his attention.

He did manage to talk Ramsay into letting him make a quick run to the store. _Without him._ He didn't need the Alpha to cause any kind of a scene in public because someone looked wrong at him.

He managed to leave only when Ramsay marked him again, gave him his own clothes and took his (new, mind you) phone, wallet, keys, cigarettes, everything.

It's not like Theon would _dare_ to run. After he was nearly murdered in that factory, almost torn in two, he wasn't keen to imagine what that crazy motherfucker was capable of.

But – _even worse_ – something he didn't want to admit is that... he didn't want to leave anyway. He felt some kind of a _responsibility_. After all, he had to feed his mate. He didn't even care about himself, really – it was about what Ramsay wanted. Wasn't that fair, after all? Trading his service for protection?

And protected he did feel. In Ramsay's clothes, marked like that, the entire street stepped away from him. Men actually took their gazes down, not wanting to do anything with him. Seriously, he wondered – what kind of man was that Bolton even? Well, scent wasn't the only thing that made people move away in the bus, giving him a seat without being prompted to.

There was also something in the leather jacket with a huge red X on the shoulder.

 _Yeah bitches, look until your eyes drop the fuck out. Jelaous, aren't you?_ he would grin at some Omega girls he would notice staring at him. _Yeah, I got a catch. Go call your joke of an Alpha._

When he returned with groceries, Ramsay was pacing left and right around the apartment, tense, his body vibrating.

It took lots of „ _I was good, I was very good“_ and „ _everybody knew, everybody saw, everybody moved away“_ to prevent a negligent homicide from occuring. That and gentle touches, and getting down on his knees to suck Ramsay off.

Later he found him eating the piece of meat he got.

Raw.

He would've called police to save him if Ramsay hadn't taken away his phone.

Of course, 15 minutes later, Theon shyly sat for the table, grateful that Ramsay left him some. _He was kind. He took care of him. He didn't need to have left anything for Theon – it would've been okay – but he did. He left it because he wanted his boy to be well._

Still, he did fry it first.

The bastard stared at him as he ate, eyes focused, smirk pleased.

„Finish it. All of it.“ he said and sat down next to Theon, gently brushing his hair aside.

Theon melted.

It was hard – struggling to keep his head cool. One of them had to be more or less sane. Someone had to steer that ship.

He noticed when Ramsay started coming off his high, when he woke up next to him one morning and that lustful vibration was missing.

It felt like he had climbed up a hill and he was absolutely _exhausted_. His everything hurt. Ramsay took him more times than he could count, and he was never kind. It was posessive, violent, it was a fucking conquest on his body. Theon wriggled in pain and discomfort until closeness of Alpha's scent would calm him down and he would sigh, his head pushed in pillows, content. For things were how they should be.

He jolted up in bed. Ramsay wasn't next to him. He looked left and right in panic – was this some kind of a jape, like in factory, now that His mind was clearer? He caught him in front of himself – in the kitchen, frying some eggs. Whistling some cheerful tune.

Smell reminded Theon that he was actually starving.

He stared at the boy – the stubble he had grown during those three days was clean shaved – making his boyish features stand out again. _That's what he was_ , a bitter thought appeared in Theon's mind, _an overgrown fucking child_. Cruel child that fried ants with a magnifying glass. Theon felt like just like one of them, wriggling under the lens, Ramsay's jolly whistling like a cruel chuckle.

He stared at the back of His spine. Back when... when... when _it_ happened and Theon remembered how he begged for a cock in himself, how he was desperately grabbing Ramsay's hands, sobbing and putting them between his legs, all Theon felt afterwards was _shame_. Shame at desperate, uncivilized animalistic behaviour. Like some hysterical freak. _Did Ramsay feel like that_?

One look at him was enough to tell him that: _no._ He did not.

There was not an ounce of shame or regret of kind in him. He moved freely around the kitchen, cooking like they were on a fucking honeymoon, not like he _kidnapped and raped Theon, because that was what it really was_. It made his throat burn up with sudden anger.

„Oh! Good morning sweetheart.“ A happy voice echoed and Theon grabbed at the sheets.

Ramsay's hair was fluffy, a dark halo surrounding his fresh face.

Just leaning over and straining his back made Theon whine in pain. It all dawned on him – his finger missing. His back mauled, like he was attacked by a bear in woods, filled with scratches and teeth marks, still covered in dry blood. He took a look at his arms, his vision shaky. They were glistening with red and purple bruises, deep and painful.

„Ramsay. You need to take me to a hospital.“

„A hospital? Why?“ Bolton approached him with a plate, his voice nonchalant.

„...Are you serious? Are you serious? Look at me!“ Theon screamed and lifted up his arm to showcase a sight that could give a crime scene photo a good competition. „You chopped my fucking finger off! You insane, you crazy-.“

„So what?“ Ramsay pulled a chair and sat next to him. „You have like, nine more. That's enough, really.“

Theon stared at the bastard in absolute shock. The fucking. The fucking _guts_ he had to say something like that, like it was nothing more than a cat scratch. His stump pulsed, his back ached, the light shirt he wore glued to the blood.

„Take me. To the hospital. Now.“ Theon hissed.

„You don't need to go to the hospital. You just need to eat. Come on.“ Ramsay raised a fork, a piece of egg on it. „You're an Omega. Did you skip biology classes? What do you think evolution was for? Did you fail highschool? Open your mouth.“

Theon didn't really skip biology classes. He just tuned them out, completely sure he will manifest... _differently_. Ramsay's closeness seemed to dull his wounds a bit, working like an anaesthetic. His brain felt like it was being dragged through mud.

„Do you want me to stuff it down your throat?“ He felt a gentle carress on his cheek. But when he raised his eyes to meet Ramsay's, they were two cunning and sly glaciers, ready to actually stuff the entire fork down his windpipe.

Theon promptly opened his mouth.

„There we go. You just need to eat.“

It was true – he was _starving_. He actually had no idea if he had ever felt a hunger like that, his stomach welcoming the food. If someone dumped him in a garbage can, he would ingest whatever he could find, not even thinking twice about it. He greedily swallowed and leaned forward, ready to take another bite.

„Slowly. I'm trying to keep you alive, not choke you to death.“ Ramsay said calmly, continuing to feed him. It ended all too soon, with Theon being disappointed at how small the meal seemed.

He took an inspecting look at himself. All that muscle mass he had worked hard at in the gym, trying to at least _keep up_ his appearance as a tough boy was _lost_. Months of hard work. Months of dedication. He wanted to cry.

His body was burning energy like a fucking fuel factory, trying to heal and close the wounds inflicted by Alpha's unconscious rage and violence. He felt somewhat of a relief though – finally, Ramsay was the one in control, keeping the reigns and knowing what to do. There to take care of him. Because Theon was exhausted beyond belief – a mix of physical damage, emotional overexertion, and his body trying to heal itself, using everything at its disposal, from muscle to flesh to food. Everything went into a desperate attempt to cure the lesions and close the deep cuts.

Even keeping his eyes open was a heavy task.

Ramsay playfully pressed a finger against his nose, a grin creaking on his face, spreading the square jaw in a wicked grimace.

„Let's go back to sleep. How does that sound? While I get you something else to eat. You know, I would go out and hunt you a deer, but you'll have to be satisfied with a takeout.“

The thought actually sounded pretty great to Theon. He meekly nodded and let Ramsay fluff the blanket and pillows, lulling him into deep rest.

Before his eyelids dropped, he once again caught the view of that impish simper – a delighted expression of a cat ready to pull the mouse for his tail. _How weird. It's really nice, actually. He doesn't have to do anything; because Ramsay will take care of it._

It was a pleased smile of a master who leashed a dog to his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God that every chapter ends with Theon going to sleep haha :'3 idk let him rest, he deserves it!


	9. Chapter 9

Theon woke up with a sharp pain in his shoulder blades, in his abdomen, in his ass, in his neck, and a burning pit in his stomach. He groaned as he tried to get himself up. Every single movement felt like moving a heavy mountain of ache. Wherever he shifted his weight, it was like sitting on the squashed side of an apple.

“Get up. I’m taking you out.” Ramsay whistled as he tied his boots. Cheerful, healthy, and in absolutely no pain. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re terrible.” Theon growled, annoyed and grabbed his hand. It took a bit of grunting and moaning to get up, but as Ramsay’s scent got stronger, the pain dulled, and Theon found himself gripping the hand stronger, like a drowning man.

Standing itself was a tiring job and his knees wobbled. He felt like he had stood up for the first time in years and he almost toppled over, floor slipping under him, but Ramsay’s muscular arm was there to offer support and straighten him up again.

“I’m hungry.” he placed a sad complaint as he hugged Ramsay’s arm, leaning on him.

“As opposed to some of us here, I know how biology works.”  
Theon decided to stiffle his reaction to the off-handed sarcastic remark. “I’m taking you out to eat. We need to fix these. So you last longer.” he frowned and lifted Theon’s shirt, inspecting his wounds. The scars were still pretty deep, the body trying its best to patch them up as soon as possible.

“Ouch!” he yelped as Ramsay sadistically shoved a finger in one of the cuts.  
“You’re worse than a woman. And here I thought all of you Ironborns were tough." He pulled the shirt off. Fabric painfully unglued itself from the dry blood of cuts, prompting another cry.

“It hurts!”  
Ramsay gritted his teeth and slapped him across the face.

A loud sound swiftly cut the air. Theon stumbled back and grabbed his cheek in shock.

“Stop being annoying. I don’t tolerate that shit. Be grateful and don’t make me leave you all alone here to starve. To starve and writhe around in pain. Because I could.” Ramsay pulled his arm from Theon’s grip and grabbed a weeks old hooded jacket from the pile of clothes on the chair.  
Roose would flip his shit if he knew what his son’s apartment looked like. Out of all his traits Ramsay inherited only the worst ones.

He fished out a god-knows-since-when candy bar and threw it along with the hoodie on Theon.

“Here. Throw this on while I get you some shoes.”

Theon was just getting ready to complain with the same intensity women complain to store managers, but the second he pressed his face in the thick red fabric... his mind went blank. Comforting scent filled his lungs. He couldn't figure it out - he wasn't in heat, he wasn't even near it yet, and Ramsay was all-overall a terrible person… yet he felt safe. it simply felt like a natural progression. The right way it should be.

It was so logical. He was hungry and in pain and his alpha was on his feet, there to protect him. Despite all those skipped biology classes, something in him figured out this was a pretty suitable bodily reaction. He wasn’t supposed to be away from his mate. His body was weak, unprotected and-  
He didn’t even notice when Ramsay shook his shoulder.

“You’re still not dressed? What the fuck have you been doing for the past fifteen mintues? No wonder those roommates of yours want you out of the apartment. I doubt you do shit around it.” he yanked the hoodie out of Theon’s grip.  
Theon tried to weakly pull it back, unwilling to part from it - a weak 'no' protest leaving his tongue, but Ramsay was already shoving it over his head. Suddenly, the ache in his back lowered significantly. Theon concluded pretty happily that this was, indeed, much better than just hugging the shirt. It felt like he was wrapped in a big blanket made of Ramsay.

“I’m hungry.” he repeated, this time in a more demanding voice.

Ramsay rolled his eyes and grabbed the candy bar from his hands. Oh. He totally forgot about it. With a quick and irritated move he stripped the plastic wrapper off it.  
Without any time to waste he shoved it in Theon's mouth with careless force and prompted an offended choke.

"Let's go." He shoved him out the door and Theon stumbled over his feet, barely balancing himself to prevent landing on his face.  
What an asshole, was a thought that crossed his mind as he was unceremoniously pushed forward. A granola bar? Really? I would not survive in the woods with him.

And then the bitter thought was swapped with an image of Ramsay actually hunting, sleeves rolled up, pines and woods around them. He thoughtfully looked up at the ceiling. That would be pretty good, actually. Ramsay was definitely a hunter.

“Do you hunt?” he blurted out while Ramsay fumbled around with keys.

“I fished you out of that factory. I have a pack of hunting dogs. You tell me.”

“You cheated!” Theon’s fury suddenly broke out of him, despite the docile smell of the clothes and he met Ramsay’s eye. “You cheated, you told me you’d let me go if I made it out!”

“Oh. Well, I don’t remember you making it out.” Ramsay carelessly kicked the door open.  
“Well I didn’t, because you cut my finger off!”  
Ramsay rose his hand and Theon flinched, scared he’d be struck again, but Ramsay just gently dragged the thumb over his cheek.

“It’s how things should be. You are to be caught. It felt right, didn’t it?”

And Theon melted. He was right. What if he made it out? An Omega without a mate, without protection. He suddenly felt so small.  
And Ramsay knew what order and respect were, and when he tried to run, he cut his finger off without a second thought. Because his Alpha is not a fucking simp. Theon looked at the stump of his finger almost in love.

“There. Let’s go.” Ramsay pulled him under his arm while Theon’s head swam.  
***

Theon literally floated on the street, hung on Ramsay’s arm like that. Girls passed and turned their heads and he reciprocated with a satisfied grin. Jealous cunts, probably. They would cut their tits off to have someone like this. Someone like Ramsay fucking Bolton, with clean shaved face, and broad shoulders, and a wonderful cologne.  
He grinned at the Alphas that passed as well, locking eyes with them and literally asking for a fight. It was like provoking leashed dogs in a yard. Omegas shouldn’t lock their eyes with predators, but what did Theon care? If any of them jumped at him, he knew Ramsay would trample them in a second. He felt safe. He felt confident.

They ate at the mall.  
People passed around, mingling and mixing, mostly avoiding them. But scents got drowned out by the melting pot of people, which Theon would have greeted with serious unhappiness if it wasn’t for the food tray Ramsay put in front of him.

He was in the middle of shoving the second plate of noodles in himself when he stopped his chopsticks and looked at Ramsay.  
“Are you going to eat that?” he asked, eyeing the burger in his hands.

Ramsay gave him a weirded out look. Whatever it was, Theon already leaned over to take it from him.

“...Theon?”  
a bag of groceries fell to the ground behind them.  
Both of them turned their heads.

And there he stood, in the middle of the buzzing crowd.

Robb’s lip trembled as he stared at the two of them at a small table. His friend and the man… whose name he had seen in his father's drawers, whose victims he had seen on photo reports.

Theon stared back, stunned. He forgot his friend even existed, having been too busy trying to handle the animal that had him for the past few days. It took him a few seconds to even process what was happening or who that was.

“You are-. Do you even know-.” Stark stood there in shock.  
He finally took in the reality of Theon’s sunken face that lost its fullness and was sporting a reddish bruise with purple undertones below his eye.

The silence overtook them; despite the noises of the mall, chatter, feet. Somehow it felt like time froze.

“Theon.” Stark said quietly and lifted his hand. “Come here. Just, easy. Step away from him. We’ll take you to the medics and to the police. Just easy.”

“I filed for the missing person two days ago. Police are-. I’m-.” his voice was tense, shaking just a little. His eyes fled from Ramsay’s apathetic face, like of stone, to Theon’s expression that was a frozen mix of shock, disbelief and… something Robb couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“I was scared they would find you-” his voice trailed off to whisper.

Mutilated and dead in a trench went unsaid.  
Another rumor about Ramsay Snow and his activities.  
One more dead body in the sea of reports and files.

“Just easy. Come here. Ramsay Snow, stay there.” Robb took two careful steps forward, Theon’s eyes still wide and hand hovering over Ramsay’s burger.

It was only then Robb could see the terrifying testemony of Ramsay Bolton’s lust and cruelty, in plain sight.

He finally noticed the stump on Theon’s hand.  
A place cleanly cut off at the knuckle.

“Well. This is kind of awkward.” Ramsay smirked and leaned back in the chair, like it was nothing of his concern. “Sheesh. A bit tense, isn’t it? We are in the middle of something here.” he waved his hand around and placed the burger on the table in front of Theon.  
“My mate is you know. A bit hungry. You know how Omegas get, whiny, crying, all of that.”

Theon felt like a deer in front of headlights. Robb on one side, in low position like Ramsay had a bomb in his pocket, Ramsay across him, like he was the king of the mall, untouched by allegations of… kidnapping, physical abuse and rape. Probably all of those in exact order.

It was like two waves clashed in Theon’s temples - one where he knew Robb was right. He should get up. Step away. File the report. Go home. That was the logical wave - the Theon Greyjoy who still had all his body parts and was free to do as he wished. And the other wave was-  
just as he was about to listen to the right voice, Ramsay placed a hand over his and rubbed at the stump where his finger used to be. The spell was cast once again over him and, obediently, with hitched breath, Theon turned his head to his mate.

“I didn’t go willfully.” Theon blurted out.  
Ramsay kept quiet, the only sign of amusement on his face being a small curl of his lips.  
“He made me go.” Theon nudged his head towards Ramsay.

“Alright. Just easy. It’s a public space, he can’t hurt you. Come here.” Robb said in an even more careful voice and took one step forward.

“I just don’t see why it matters.” Theon frowned like he was having to explain the simplest thing ever. “Like, whether I went willfully or not.”

Robb’s mouth went open in shock.

“Your finger.” Robb swallowed. “You. You are missing. A finger.”  
“As I said, it’s because I didn’t want to go.” Theon spoke in hazy voice, staring at Ramsay’s eyes, his best friend forgotten. Things were dreamy. “He had to do something. He was in heat, and I was… bad.”

Ramsay stiffled a laughter, amused to no end.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Robb pinched his nose.  
“You’re telling me he lured you, kidnapped you, cut your finger off and then raped you? Theon. ” Robb finally gathered courage and leapt over. He yanked Theon’s forearm and his eyecontact with Ramsay broke. He stared at different pair of blue eyes now - Tully eyes, deep blue, unlike winter ones, unlike cruel and cold and distant and violent and-.  
“I told you to stay home.”

It was sheer strength of hate and fury that flew through Theon’s body in that moment that made his weak musculature pull his arm out of the strong grip. He violently swatted Robb’s hand to side and tensed, his teeth gritting. There it was again. There was that fucking. Patronizing. Voice.  
“Oh thank you! Thank you, Robb Stark shows up again to save me, a poor dumb Greyjoy from such harm, from myself, because I can’t take care of myself, is that it? Because you are a hero? Continuing your daddy’s duty of treating me like a ward, like a ticking time-bomb, an ugly mussel on your spit-perfect record!” he shouted and jumped on his feet.  
It was like all those years of small annoyances, grudges, of jealousy, of all the times he felt anger towards his almost brother collected in one small spot in Theon’s soul, ready to burst into fireworks.

“I get it now.” Theon continued, not having enough. “You’re jelaous. You’re jelaous because he was born a bastard but he wears a golden watch. Is that it?” he gave a sick grin. “What, you’re jelaous I’ll ditch your dumbass apartment? You wanted me out, anyway. I’ll move in with him.” he flickered his gaze to Ramsay who kept a stiff smile like an audience with a popcorn in front of a movie.

“You are no-.”

“So that he doesn’t have to look around for me again.” Theon’s words were now feverish as he stared at the Alpha across him. He didn’t control his voice anymore, the thoughts, the words. “And I’ll give him children. Sooner than that bitch of yours.”

He whipped Stark with a dignified look and a highly-held chin and sat back down for the table.  
“And besides, my alpha is right there. I don’t even see why you are asking me these things. It’s disrespectful.”  
And he bit into the burger.

Ramsay couldn't hide his grin anymore as he clenched and unclenched his fists, his teeth on display.

"Ouch. I really, really hate situations like this. You know. When people argue and such... nasty words are thrown around." he shook his head. Nobody has ever enjoyed himself in these things like Ramsay has. The mocking dishonesty in his voice could be cut.

"Let's all be friends again, shall we? We haven't even met. Perhaps in passing." he nodded at Robb who stood like a wooden statue, a patient in shock in need of a blanket. "I mean, you two have been friends for a long, long time. We should probably meet each other better, don't you think?" Ramsay stood up and made a few steps forward. He put a hand over Robb's shoulders like they were old friends.

"So how about you give me your number? Or, oh, I assume Theon has it. Isn't that right, love?"

Theon did not grant them his response.

"Forgive him. You know. He's a bit rude, but it's just nerves. Omegas, am I right?" he looked at Robb's eyes. "Just dictate it to me, in case he blocked you or something. That's so petty, I know, but... typical.

After all." Ramsay smirked.

"I'll need to come pick up his stuff tomorrow."


	10. Chapter 10

"No." Theon whispered in distress the second Ramsay unlocked the door of the apartment. He ducked his head down and ran past him; below the broader man's arm, and started grabbing his clothes from the chair, from the floor, from the table. He bumped into the bed and knocked down a coffee mug. "I can't move in with you."

Ramsay said nothing.  
He simply smiled and entered, like a man knowing the game was over long time ago.  
Truly - it was done even **before** Theon told his only ally to fuck off.

Maybe if he kept it just to Stark it could've been forgiven, but the second he brought his fiance in, the gates closed for Theon... for good.

Bolton leaned on the closed door with a smirk on his face. He could wait out the tirade; the fear, the bargaining pleas. It will just tire his Omega out, and he will be left with a sack of flesh, sleeping on the floor in exhaustion.

"I don't even know you!" Theon yelped as he hastily opened the drawers in search for his phone. "And- and from what I _do_ know, you are-."

Whatever the word was, it got stuck in Theon's throat. He froze in tracks, staring at the smooth wood of the nightstand. The polished surface mirrored his horrid expression on face; stubble messy, hair uncombed, face both sunken in and bloated.

Each line on his face was a witness of the mistakes he had made, each more terrifying than the previous one. Was he really so stupid to do this?

The lock clicked behind him.

He turned his head in fear. The Bolton wasn't there anymore. Where did he go?  
The answer came instantly.

Leather string suddenly flashed before Theon's eyes, and strong hands choked him with it. He choked as the strong hands drew him closer; his head bumping against wide chest behind him. Like a strangler from movies, Ramsay pulled the thick leather stripe and Theon choked.  
He tried to breathe in but the air wasn't coming through.

"Shhh. Be good." Was all Ramsay whispered. Theon tried to grab at the weapon - but his body was starting to twitch from the lack of air. Like octopi when covered with soy sauce; muscles started spasming without control. The pull was so strong Ramsay managed to pull him up from the floor, with his strength alone.

"I don't want to hurt you. But if you're going to be difficult, we'll have to do it this way." Ramsay's voice was dark and hoarse. Thick with amusement.

Just when Theon thought this will be his last attempt at breathing in before his body truly shuts down, he was let go.  
He fell to his knees. The hard floor left him with a bruise but he didn't even notice it - his entire body ached anyway - but nothing compared to the sudden burn of oxygen in his lungs. The leather stripe circled his neck fully now, and a clasp was heard.  
Ramsay finally clasped the collar onto him.

"This makes it official," he gave a dark chuckle and Theon felt tears swell in his eyes.

\---  
Next day rolled around on slow wheels.  
Theon spent the entire night on the floor, too weak to get up, in complete shock-bound silence while Ramsay calmly peeled his apples and munched through a boxing match on TV.

"You know what we need to get done today, right?" at last his Alpha asked and Theon got up, ran to the bathroom, and vomitted.

He couldn't make himself look up at the mirror. He didn't want to see the terrifying vision from yesterday, a ghost of a man.

He couldn't make himself look up at Ramsay when he unlocked the door of the apartment either and hauled Theon out.  
He couldn't make himself look up at the rear-view mirror in the car for fear he would see his reflection.  
He couldn't make himself look up at the building he knew so well and they parked in front of, rather choosing to keep his gaze firmly on the asphalted floor.

"Behave," Ramsay whispered to him and knocked on the door of the apartment in front of them.

And he certainly couldn't look up when the auburn haired man he had known his whole life opened the door.

Robb Stark stood there at loss of words, the knob in one hand, like he had no idea what was the thing he was supposed to do.  
He never took Ramsay's offer to pick up Theon's things from yesterday for real, or he would've kept his gun close and called the police to aid.  
Now all he could do was stare at a tall, dark-haired man with a smug smile on his face and his best friend who bowed his head like a sad willow tree.

"Dear? Who is-." A soft womanly voice came from the behind and Talisa's head peeked out.

Before Robb could even decide if he wanted to open or close the door, to call the police or not to, to tell Theon to get inside or to get lost - Ramsay Bolton pushed forward and strode in the flat like he was the owner.

"Ramsay Bolton." He grabbed Robb's hand and shook it vigorously, "We've met yesterday. And oh! This must be your girlfriend!" He turned around to Talisa and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. The poor Stark didn't even get to wrap his head around it - and Ramsay was already shaking Talisa's hands as well.

"I-." he said in confusion. Theon pushed past him in embarrassment, without even greeting him.  
Greyjoy was scared that if he tried, all he could say would be the words: "Help me". That wouldn't be smart. Not in front of Ramsay.  
Because it was only now clear to Theon what he actually got himself into. The short-haired Bastard wasn't a man to be stopped just like that - he ran over things that popped in his way, he broke what wouldn't bend, and he did it all with a hungry grin on his face, like he would never be sated - no matter what he had.

"You're even lovelier than I imagined you." Ramsay purred at the Volantian girl and finally dropped her hands. "Theon." he turned around and impatiently snapped his fingers, "Get your things and let's get out."

The air was so hot and thick Theon bolted forward immediately, not needing to be told twice.

It seemed Robb's gear finally kicked in because the Stark immediately jumped after Greyjoy, grabbing after him. Theon heard the corridor doors close and muffled chatter of Ramsay and Talisa behind them.

"So is that it? Did you really hate it here so?" Robb hissed.  
Theon avoided his look.  
"You hated it so much you couldn't even greet me when passing."

"Let me go." Theon murmured and tried to yank his hand out. "I need to- to- to get my things."

"You will rather choose _that_ ," Theon heard disgust in his best friend's (or... maybe once so) voice. He didn't even need to turn his head around to know he was vaguely gesturing at the collar. "Than me and Talisa?"

"Robb. He will kill you both." Theon hissed and finally, not without effort, managed to pull his hand out.

"Is that a _threat_?" came a question, this time from high ground.

Theon finally turned his head and faced Stark's eyes.

"What?!" he whispered in shock.  
"Is that a threat? Now you have a mafia boyfriend and you know where I live? Is that it, _Theon Greyjoy_?" Robb squinted his eyes.  
The Stark pride in him really took the wheel and Theon recognized Ned's look in those blue eyes. He might had inherited his mother's Tully eyes but - the stern gaze was that of his father.

"No-!"  
"I took you in. I was your brother for years-."  
"Robb, are you-"  
"And you come here, with warnings?"

Theon felt like he was somewhere below the water, his head blurry and heavy from the weight of the ocean over his temples. Was this for real?

Robb once again grabbed his hand, and this time Theon only gave him a hurt, startled look.

"Go to hell. But just so you know - both the criminal _and_ the accomplice go to jail. I am telling you that as an _advice_ , not as a threat, Theon. But if this is what you chose, then you should at least know what it is you chose for real." Robb's look was heavy and accusing.  
This was the most serious Theon had ever seen him.  
He swallowed a thick ball of snot in his throat.

"Theon!" a holler came behind the door and the two young men turned to the voice. Robb let go of his hand and Theon only squeaked and turned around to quickly grab his few bits of clothes he had laying around. He didn't even bother to try and find them all or to nicely fold them; he simply grabbed what he saw. In the end he had a mountain of fabric in his arms and he hurried towards the exit.

Talisa had served Ramsay coffee, too scared and confused to question what was happening.

"Lovely." Ramsay smiled, pleased, at the bundle in Theon's arms. "And you," he turned his head towards the dark-haired girl, "thank you for your hospitality. What a wonderful place you two have." he looked up and circled the ceiling with his look.

"Get. Out." there was a hiss from behind.  
Robb stood by the wall, his fists tightly balled, furiously staring at both of them.

"Of course. We took enough of your time." Ramsay got up with a sway and pushed Theon forward. "But I am sure this isn't the last time we will see each other. You two are quite nice company. Or at least she is."

"Out."

\---  
The ride was tense.  
It was like there was a deep, dark river, roaming and swallowing everything between the two of them - a monster with belly that could never be full, no matter what it ate and chewed up.

"Nice people." Ramsay said casually, one hand on the wheel, other on the gear shift.  
"Yeah." Theon confirmed.

He stared at the streets, when he suddenly realized something.

"...You took a wrong turn." he frowned. "This isn't where we are-."

"We are making a little detour. A trip, if you want it." Ramsay didn't even look at him, just smiled.

As if that was not enough to worry about, the Alpha took a turn to the exit of the city.  
Theon wanted to scream.  
It felt like he was covered on gasoline, and Ramsay tossed a match at him. His entire body started to burn.

Out the city? Detour? Trip?  
And Ramsay took off _North_ as well. Winterfell was the only big city in the North; there could be a small village here or there, but that was about it. Everything else was untamed wilderness. Dark green pines as high as skycrapers, snow and frost and big stones that hid deadly traps and ditches. One wrong step and men died, snapping their necks like twigs. Hunters and hikers alike were at mercy of wolfish woods, famished for blood and flesh.

People died in the woods every day.  
One more or less, who cared?

"Here we are." Ramsay stopped the car in the middle of the rocky road.

Miles away from Winterfell. Miles away from the next city. Road that wasn't even charted in the maps; just one of hundreds small roads in the Northern landscape. One of many small roads where small people got lost.  
Because nobody ever heard them scream, or saw them ask around for help when their phones died and batteries were smashed by the slaughterous forest spirits.

"Get out." Ramsay chirped as sweet as honey.  
"No. No, no, no, Ramsay-" Theon whispered in fear, his breath freezing in the cold air. When did it turn that cold anyway?

"Don't make me repeat myself, darling. Get out." Ramsay said, this time slower, like he was spelling out something very simple for a child.

Theon's hand trembled while he opened the door.  
Ramsay busted his own one and jumped out the car with force of a big, predatory cat.

"Take your clothes too." he lit a cigarette. "Throw them here, on a pile."

Theon obeyed.  
He did all of the motions in trance-like state. His hands weren't his, his footsteps weren't his, his ugly ball of clothes- was just an illusion in his arms. He dropped it on the rocky floor.

" _All_ of your clothes." Ramsay looked at him.  
It took him a moment to realize what the Alpha was aiming at.

Reluctantly, Theon started taking the clothes on him off as well.

The air was so cold he thought he would freeze right there. Was that the game? The plan? To leave him to freeze? His skin went raspy from the goosebumps and nipples hardened cowardly in the wintry breeze.

"Good. Now burn them." Ramsay tossed him the lighter.

Theon simply blinked at him, but Ramsay didn't blink back. He kept the eye-contact.

"After all, I don't think you will be needing clothes anymore."


End file.
